


Ever More

by The_Last_Kenobi



Series: Whumptober 2020 [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hurt CT-7567 | Rex, Not enough hugs in the galaxy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Umbara Arc (Star Wars), Protective Ahsoka Tano, Protective Anakin Skywalker, Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Trauma, Whump, Whumptober 2020, just hug dammit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:21:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27109414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Last_Kenobi/pseuds/The_Last_Kenobi
Summary: After Umbara, Rex figures out how to keep on going.(What do you do when your whole life is built on trusting those who give you orders, and someone just used that to let you kill your family?)It's not easy.Written for Whumptober 2020Day 19 - Survivor's Guilt
Relationships: 501st Legion & CT-7567 | Rex, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Whumptober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956463
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	Ever More

When he closes his eyes, he can still see it.

Rex can’t sleep anymore—the nightmares that all clones seem to share have suddenly transformed into something far more real and inescapable.

He can’t shoot at a clanker without seeing the face of a brother, horror-struck and sickened, instead of the droid.

The looks on their faces as they removed their white and blue and gold buckets—the dizzying look of horror and dawning realization—

They had been given an order.

And they had all complied.

Trusting in the Jedi, even if Krell himself was untrustworthy and cruel. They had all trusted, they had all obeyed, and as always, _vode_ had paid the price.

Rex knows that it isn’t the fault of the Jedi Order.

He knows better than most that no family can claim responsibility for the actions of every single member. Look at Slick. Look at Dogma.

Look at Krell.

 _Krell_.

But still, still, suddenly—orders make him jumpy. The urge to snarl back is almost uncontrollable, but Captain Rex of the 501st _does_ control it, because he has to, because sometimes orders are the only things keeping his brothers _alive_.

...Instead of the only thing making them murder each other.

He raises his blaster at a battle droid and sees a 212th trooper staring at him instead, familiar eyes wide and dark with dismay and revulsion.

He fires at a magna guard and he sees Waxer breathing his last, his expression full of guilt and pain—surrounded by brothers who have all just killed one another, killed him.

Rex’s hands are always steady when he fires.

But he’s shooting at mirages and hallucinations of his own men, fighting past the memories to handle a very real, very clanker enemy. Not brothers. Not human. Not even flesh and bone at all, just metals and wire and programmed orders from the Seps.

Who is more slave to orders, he thinks.

The mech creations who are fashioned and made for a single purpose?

Or the clone offspring of a Jedi-killer, conditioned to follow the orders of Jedi?

They don’t talk about Umbara. Nobody does. Those who were there returned different, returned shaken, and they won’t speak of the memories that rouse them screaming from sleep or cause their fingers to hesitate on the trigger.

Even the Generals—the _good_ ones, Skywalker and Kenobi and Windu and others—while they make sure that each _vod_ who is struggling is not decommissioned or punished for their pain—Windu’s anger is all directed into his strategy, into doing better. Kenobi seems to channel his into kindness, into cups of tea and caff and extra leave time here and there. Skywalker rants and raves. His passion is appreciated. His pointless shouting, not so much.

Rex isn’t quite sure how the others are surviving.

Because he knows the only reason he is surviving is because Ahsoka is there for him.

Sometimes she’s quiet. She just hugs him, holds him, lets him lean on her as they doze off on a long flight; she adopts the _be’vode_ habit of sleep piles just to keep him safe.

Sometimes she’s louder, and she forces him to talk when Rex has sunk into a sour, bitter mood—Ahsoka lets him yell and slam his fist on the table, lets him grieve, and doesn’t judge.

The pain and ache in her eyes—so young—makes it obvious that she doesn’t fully understand what he endured.

The betrayal.

The lies.

The manipulation.

The feeling of being hunted.

The immense loss.

But she allows him to come to his _own_ understanding, and that’s enough—enough to get by.

Sometimes, Rex learns, he has to trust his instincts and not his eyes.

Because the terror of sometimes shooting at an enemy but seeing a brother…that stays with him as long as he lives.

It's a long life.


End file.
